


that's how everybody's brain works (a mile a minute)

by Moransroar



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23805019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moransroar/pseuds/Moransroar
Summary: Peter holds onto the last little shred of hope that maybe once they get back to the compound and everyone goes their separate ways to get some rest, Tony will wrap am arm around him and squeeze him into his side and kiss his head and suggest they go take a nice shower and then a long, well-deserved nap.Except when they land Tony slaps him on the shoulder and tells him he did a good job, and that he should ‘get some rest, kiddo’, and then he’s off to god-knows-where.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 211





	that's how everybody's brain works (a mile a minute)

Tony is looking down at the device in his hand in a way that tells Peter they are not going to be able to continue this conversation right now. Which sucks, because Peter felt like he was finally getting somewhere with his argument.

But, duty calls, and Tony sweeps away to go suit up and inform the others before Peter can get another word in edgewise and he’s left standing alone in the workshop, knowing he should go and suit up himself, but definitely not feeling like saving the world right now.

He doesn’t understand how Tony can just up and leave like that in the middle of their conversation. Sure, the world is important, and they’re not the Avengers for no reason, but sometimes it would be nice if they can think about _them_ for a change, and nothing else.

Peter takes a deep breath and goes to find his suit. Once everyone has gathered they take the quinjet, and Peter quietly takes his seat next to Tony like he always does, although while the others are chatting among themselves, some discussing their mission and some seeming to resume conversations from earlier, Tony doesn’t say a word to Peter. And Peter doesn’t say a word to Tony.

It’s not that Peter’s mad at him. He hopes Tony isn’t mad at him either. It’s just tense right now. Peter tells himself it’s because of their abrupt takeoff and the knowledge of what they’re about to face. Everyone must be nervous. Peter is just eager to get home again.

The mission takes up the rest of the day and they work well into the afternoon the following day to get everything back to the way it was before the alien attack, or at least as far as they’re capable of doing so. The threat has been eliminated and civilians have been rescued and given shelter elsewhere until their homes are safe to go back to once again.

By the time they’re on the jet back, everyone is exhausted. But Peter hasn’t stopped thinking about their argument.

He’s been distracted the entire time, quiet over the comms and on their journey home, even more so than he was on the flight toward the attack.

It stings because… Well because no one has addressed it yet. No one has looked at him and saw that he was struggling with something and even just so much as put their arm around him to give him a reassuring squeeze. He knows he shouldn’t expect those things when the team is busy with something else, but even Tony doesn’t seem to notice, and if anyone is used to keeping an eye on Peter it’s him.

He feels ungrateful. He shouldn’t expect people to always be keeping him in their peripherals. There was a time where he wanted so badly to be independent, to not always need people, and he spent so much time trying to make that clear to the people around him that he realizes maybe he’s taken it too far.

Peter’s brain always goes a mile a minute and usually he can express that by talking, can filter all his thoughts through words, or at least get them out because let’s be serious he doesn’t always think clearly before he speaks, but. That’s not the point. The point is that now that he can’t and doesn’t talk, all of that needs to stay inside his head, and inside his head is where it festers and rots and he hates it. Hates starting out thinking Tony probably just has other things on his mind right now and ends up convinced that he doesn’t love him anymore not even two minutes later. Hates seeing everyone else around him chat in a tired but relieved manner knowing that no one is trying to strike up a conversation with him so that must mean they either forgot he’s even there or they don’t want to talk to him. Right?

He’s never realized that it’s a very toxic way of thinking. He just assumes that’s how everybody’s brain works.

Peter holds onto the last little shred of hope that maybe once they get back to the compound and everyone goes their separate ways to get some rest, Tony will wrap am arm around him and squeeze him into his side and kiss his head and suggest they go take a nice shower and then a long, well-deserved nap.

Except when they land Tony slaps him on the shoulder and tells him he did a good job, and that he should ‘get some rest, kiddo’, and then he’s off to god-knows-where.

As expected, the rest of the team disperses without another word, and Peter lingers on the tarmac, holding his breath so as not to fall apart right there and then.

Miraculously, he keeps it together until he finds his way back to his room, but as he sheds his suit to take a shower his eyes feel too hot and his nose starts to get stuffy and the downpour starts when he is safely under the warm stream of water but it just. Doesn’t help.

It only makes Peter feel more drained than before, but he figured hey, that should probably help put him to sleep, right?

Though when he lays down in bed his thoughts keep swirling. He just wants to talk to Tony but he already feels like he’s been so needy lately, and Tony is probably busy. He’s probably not thinking about Peter. Hasn’t done so since he likely locked himself up in his workshop to go and continue on a project that doesn’t involve Peter because he can’t stand him right now.

Yeah, that has to be it.

It takes him a while to be able to fall asleep with that in the back of his mind but he’s exhausted himself to the point where his body can’t do anything but shut down. And so it does.

Tony enters the room not five minutes later with a tray in his hands, and at first he doesn’t notice Peter is already asleep.

“I don’t know why I even try for this team. They’re ungrateful for my meal providing services on a good day. At least I know you’ll appreciate—” Tony’s turned around after maneuvering the door closed without the use of his hands, and sees that Peter’s eyes are closed and his mouth slightly open. His hair is still damp from his shower, skin clean and undoubtedly soft to the touch, and Tony smiles despite himself.

He sets the tray down on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching over to brush Peter’s hair back from his face. That’s when he notices Peter’s eyes are puffy, his lashes damp, and there’s tearstains on his cheeks. He frowns.

“Peter? Hey, Petey. Have you been crying?” He swipes his thumb gently over Peter’s cheekbone and watches as the boy’s mouth twitches at the corner, a sure sign that he’s waking up. Tony doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep for but he looks exhausted and his eyes are glassy when they find him and it’s heart wrenching. “Hey,” he murmurs, his concern growing when Peter’s brows knit together and his eyes start to fill again. “Hey, woah, what’s happening?”

Tony gathers Peter up in his arms and the boy immediately starts to sniff, his face buried against Tony’s chest. Peter clings to him so firmly that it almost knocks the breath out of him and it’s worrying. It’s definitely worrying.

“Oof, Peter. Talk to me, baby.”

But Peter can’t get any words out over his desperate hiccupping, and all Tony can really do at that moment is rub his hand up and down his back and assume that it’s the mission and the devastation and seeing all those families in panic, all combined with the exhaustion of having worked all throughout the night. He knows that Peter can handle quite a lot, but everybody reaches a breaking point eventually.

Peter calms down slowly but surely, and Tony cups his face between his hands and wipes away his tears and kisses at his cheeks until Peter’s breathing well enough to be able to talk.

“I thought you—I thought you didn’t wanna…’na talk to me,” a fat tear rolls down Peter’s cheek and Tony wipes it away with the sleeve of his shirt.

“You thought I didn’t want to talk to you? What gave you that impression?” Tony looks puzzled.

“Because we were arguing and then you didn’t s-say anything on the quinjet and I just thought…”

“Baby, I thought you were tired…” Tony’s frown deepens, “When did we argue?”

Peter’s confused frown mirrors Tony’s, and he sniffs. “Before the mission?”

Tony wracks his brain trying to think of what happened before they were called away but he can’t think of anything that really resembles an argument. They’d been talking when they got called in, yes, but… Surely that’s not what Peter means?

Tony pulls a silly face to hopefully help Peter out of this funk a little, and says, “ _That was an argument_?”

But Peter just blinks at him, and he quickly straightens his face out and kisses Peter’s brow. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize. I thought we were just talking.”

Peter sniffs again and he’s still clinging to Tony but a little less firmly as he seems to finally calm down properly, his grip easing up, the tension bleeding out of the set of his shoulders.

“So you weren’t mad at me?”

“Mad at you? Not at all. No, Petey, I’m not mad at you. Never.”

Peter seems to think about that for a few moments before he leans in and buries his face into the crook of Tony’s neck, taking a few deep, calculated breaths. “I thought you didn’t like me anymore.” He sounds teary-eyed again, and Tony squeezes him to his chest and kisses his hair.

“I still like you. I still like you so much.”

“So so much?”

“So so much.”

They cling to each other for a little while longer before Peter is sufficiently calm and comforted and is properly convinced that Tony really does still love him. It’s bizarre how quickly all his doubts and worries can dissipate like that when Tony’s there to hold him through it, showing him that he does care and contradicting everything that his brain has been telling him. It’s not suddenly solved completely, Peter will always have his doubts, but as long as he has Tony by his side he knows he can tame his fears for a little while longer.

Tony gives him a soft, slightly unsure smile when they finally part, which Peter returns with one of his own as he wipes the last remaining moisture from his face.

And then he looks to the tray on the side table and inspects the contents.

“What is that supposed to be?” He asks.

Tony looks him dead in the eye.

“You little—"

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a request I got on Tumblr. [Come send me a prompt!](https://iloveyou3thousand.tumblr.com/)


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